For Now
by KittyCHAOTIC
Summary: Just a bunch of one shots or maybe they're considered drabbles, I'm not sure, but this is to try to get rid of my writers block and keep some people interested hopefully! So far, it's very BABE, may change it around a little later to include others.
1. Fall For You

So, seeing as though I've got writers block, I'm writing a few short stories (I don't know whether to classify them as drabble – _confused face _- ) to the shuffle on my iTunes. Hope you enjoy them, 'cause they're actually helping me a bit.

**Fall For You – Secondhand Serenade**

He caught her, flipping her onto her back. And she was looking at him, face flushed and beautiful eyes wide. Her arms were strong and soft, trapped under his own. Her breath left in a rush, and she licked her lips.

"_Nice tackle, babe,_" he hoped she understood. And then his lips were on her, locked onto silky, pink lips, and wet, strong tongue. It was like nothing he'd felt before. Why hadn't he tried this before? She was warm and her skin was heaven. He held in a groan as he slid his hands along her now bare stomach. She was heaven.

A sound caught his attention a moment before the bedroom door opened. It was her grandma. He withheld his insults, curses raging in his head. And he knew that the only reason he'd ever stop was for her.

"_He was showing me a self-defense move,_" if only she knew. If she knew that she should be defending herself _against_ him, as his hands itched to feel her again. And then the grandma had to say the only thing that could get his mind off of _his_ woman.

"_I wouldn't mind knowing some self-defense_."

His skin crawled, "_If she wasn't your grandmother I'd shoot her._" And that was the truth.

_Italics: Hot Six, page 170-171, Janet Evanovich, _


	2. They Weren't There

**They Weren't There – Missy Higgins**

He held her close, breathing in her scent as she slept. She was warm still, her breathing deep, and skin shining with their love. Or so he hoped. But no, she didn't belong to him. Not really. Not yet.

Looking at her sleeping face, he memorised the way her face flushed in her sleep, the way her body felt totally relaxed against his, and knew that they would have their infinity – but not now.

He knew he would drown without her, but she knew that she was stronger without him for now. For now. But when she wasn't, he would be there. For her.

He knew it was wrong, to allow this night. But he needed it right now, needed her for now. For always. But not forever, not yet. One day.

He looked at his watch, noting the time. It would be enough time. For now. He looked down at her, her sleepy face and relaxed body, and leaned down to kiss her swollen lips. Swollen for him, this time, not the other one – her other one. This time… It was for him.

He worked his way from her lips to her throat, and she gave a breathy moan that tapered off in her dream, and then she said his name in her dream, she was dreaming still, of course. Of him. He knew she wouldn't say no to him. Not tonight.

And then she opened her eyes, glazed over and breathing shallow. She looked at him. Through him. He was bare beneath her, above her, around her. Bare for her. Only her. Only tonight. For now.

_Refers to: Hard Eight, Janet Evanovich. You know the scene xD_


	3. On My Own

**On My Own – The Used**

She was with _him_ again. He felt it in his bones, in his heart. Because he did have one – a heart, afterall he is human. Most times he's human.

He was passing the streets, driving in his car after he'd felt her leave him again. She always left him, for the other. Though she didn't really leave him. For that to happen he'd have to admit her into his life, into him. And he wasn't ready for that. And she wasn't ready for that. So she didn't really leave him.

There were people on the sidewalk, some alone, some holding hands. He'd never held her hand, but he'd held her body. That must have counted for something. Surely, holding hands and holding bodies were the same thing. But then, he remembered holding her body as she fell, fell into his hands. No, they weren't the same thing, but they were. Holding bodies and holding _her body_, were totally different things. She was what made it different. So they were the same thing and they were different. Just like them together.

His phone rang, and it sounded out her ringtone. He took the phone in his hand – was this close enough to holding hands? For him, it would have to be. At least until she really came back to him.


	4. Slept So Long

**Slept So Long – Queen Of The Damned soundtrack**

He kicked the door with a viciousness that broke the last shred of him. Someone was going to pay for this. It wasn't going to be him. And he wasn't talking about the door.

She was taken, taken here to be hidden. His fists clenched. She couldn't be hidden from him – not for long, and not without consequences.

They searched, and it was him who found her. He always found her, and he held onto her; at least after he found her, and after she was sure. Sure she was safe, at least. She was never sure about him, and he made sure she remained unsure. While she was safe with him, she could be sure, but once he let go of her he wanted her not to be sure again. If she was sure about this, she wasn't safe. If she was sure about him, she wasn't safe. Not right now, at least.

He held back his questions, biting his tongue hard enough for blood to flow. She looked fine, she assured him she was fine. But he looked at her eyes, and froze for a moment. But she would be fine, because he was there and she was sure she was safe, for the moment.

_Refers to: Eleven On Top, Janet Evanovich._


	5. Ride

**Ride – The Vines**

She was next to him in the car, and he knew she was fidgeting. He was so used to riding alone, he allowed the silence to fill the gaps. Knowing she was a talker, and that he loved that about her, he still couldn't break his mold. He was comfortable, but not comfortable enough to let her into his mold. So the silence remained.

She was now eating something with a plastic crinkle every time she dipped her hand. Some inane part of his brain hoped she wouldn't get anything that could stain on his freshly cleaned upholstery.

"Babe," he said as she went for another packet of whatever it was she was eating.

"What? You may be able to sit there and be all silent, Batman shit, but I have to have sustenance to stay awake through this," she said back, looking at him daringly and she took another bite. He smiled. That was _his_ woman. Well, not quite, and she didn't know it, but it was almost true.

As she kept her eyes on him, and him on hers, she brought another bite to her mouth. Before she could taste it fully, he kissed her, open mouth and searching tongue. Whatever she ate was slightly wrong in his mouth, but her taste made up for it. She was delicious, but she was better without the food. She was even better if they were in bed, not a car, and had no clothes on.

"Mmm," he teased her, nipping her earlobe. She really did taste good.

So she had another boyfriend, he knew she was (not quite) his, and he knew that he was not quite comfortable with her in his mold, and they may never be able to survive a long car trip together, but still… Until he was comfortable and she was able to rest in his silence or he was able to function in her liveliness, then they were them, and he was him and she was her, that was all that mattered. He could wait with her, for her, and she would do the same with him, for him.


	6. Attack

**Attack – 30 Seconds To Mars**

They were together, and then they weren't. She was his, and then she was _his_. And it was him that made them _them_ and then not. But that was okay. He enjoyed them while they were _them_, and looked forward to being _them_ again when they weren't. It was the light at the end of the tunnel, the star in the darkness, and he liked it that way.

Sometimes, he drove her to Point Pleasant, just to see her smile and act like they were _them_. He paid for what she would allow, and secretly added money to account when she wouldn't. She probably knew he did that, but since they were _them_ then, she didn't mention it. But maybe she didn't know it, because she was _his_ and he knew that she didn't keep a good eye on her money. It didn't matter when they were _them_ or when she was _his_ (the other ones), as long as he got to spoil her, pamper her, love her (even if she didn't know it yet).

So she kept them being _them_, and also being _his_ (the other ones), and it didn't matter, because she would be his and then they would really be _**them**_ one day. Soon, one day soon, someday soon. Their someday would be soon, if he had any say in _them_, and he knew he did.

And then she wrapped her arms around him as they sat at their diner as _them_, and this time she was _his_ (not just quite, but really). This time they were really _them_, she was his and he was hers. And someday, he would make it official.

But for now, he had a cop to take care of, because he was trying to break off _them_. But that was fine, because he knew she would never be _his_ (the other ones) again.

_This ones a little happier, and little fluffier. I don't know what it is, but I just keep writing the sad sorta morbid ones, eh? Oh well, I'm trying to write a little lighter stuff now, if the songs allow._


	7. The Point Of No Return

**The Point Of No Return/Chandelier Crash – The Phantom Of The Opera**

She knew that when they'd first kissed, she would be lost in him. And she knew that when he'd kissed her after that, so was he. But he was so stubborn, and she was so unsure. And they were both waiting for the other. And they both knew it was ridiculous.

"God bless Ella," she moaned around her dinner, sitting in the seventh floor apartment. She knew it was ridiculous that he was all the way over _there_, the _other_ side of the table, when they both wanted to be next to each other, always. But she was unsure, wasn't she? And he was stubborn, and she knew that.

"Babe," he said smiling as he took a smaller bite than her fork-full. She watched him through her eyelashes, something she'd only started doing when they started having these not-dates (but really, they were dates. But she was unsure, wasn't she? And he was stubborn. So they weren't dates, really) and now she caught herself absently studying his face as he ate. She started with his nose, because it was the centre. Really, he was _her_ centre, so she thought it best to start with his faces centre. Then she followed his cheeks, strong and defined, but soft and smooth. Really, that was their not-relationship aside from the defined part (because she was unsure, wasn't she? And he was stubborn).

His eyes were downcast, so there was no looking at those. But she knew their exact shade, and the lashes that rimmed his eyes darkly that she knew their count. So she moved next to his lips. They really defined their not-relationship. Soft, smooth, strong like his cheeks, but they were also beautiful and were able to say so much. They were what she wanted (his lips, and their not-relationship to be a relationship), and she was sure. But he was stubborn. And she would change that.

She sat her fork down with a clank and picked up her plate as she moved to sit next to him. And now he wasn't over _there_ anymore, he was right _here_. And he wasn't on the _other _side of the table, he was next to her. And she wasn't unsure, and she would make him not-stubborn. And it wouldn't be ridiculous, it would be perfect.

_God, these just take on a life of their own! I swear, I meant it to relate more to the song, but I got caught up!_


	8. Emergency

**Emergency – Paramore**

He was always pushing her. Pushing her, pushing her, pushing her. Maybe he really wanted her to go away, but she wasn't allowed to think about that. She forbid herself to think like that. That only made her feel worthless, and she didn't like that, and it wasn't good for her. So she tried not to think like that

But how could she not? He pushed, and pushed, and pushed, and it made her think maybe he really wanted her gone, out of his life. And then when he was asleep on his side of the bed, and she was on hers, she would cry.

***

She was holding onto him, and he knew it was hurting her. He could hear her before she slept. He was hurting her, and so he pushed, and pushed, and pushed, hoping she would get herself out before he hurt her irrevocably. But she was holding onto him.

He hurt her, and by hurting her he hurt himself because _he_ was hurting her. And he wished she would go because he didn't like to keep pushing her, pushing her, pushing her. He tried to push her away from the hurt.

***

And then she broke. She broke apart on him, and he pushed. She clung to him as he pushed her. And then it was done.

She looked at him, and pushed him. And it was his time to cling. And he broke apart on her. And she understood why he was done.

He was pushing because he didn't want her hurt. She clung because letting go would hurt her. She pushed him away because he was hurting her. He clung because letting go would hurt him.

And then they laughed, because they clung and pushed each other, and they loved each other enough to cling together and push together.


End file.
